Sinner
by Lady Cora
Summary: Vash the Stampede is a being known to protect and revere all life. However, what is the reason behind his ideal and obsession? What sin taints his past? AU, anime and manga based.
1. Prologue Steel Shell

**Author's Note:** I started writing this story a while ago, when I came across some scans from the seventh volume of _Trigun Maximum. _A particular scene in thee inspired me.

**Premise:** We all know why Vash chooses not to kill and reveres all life. However, my sick imagination decided to come up with another reason than the one stated in the manga and anime. A darker one. And so, my journey into AU began.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own either _Trigun_ or its characters. Yasuhiro Nightow beat me to it.

**Sinner**

**Prologue - Steel Shell**

**Stardate 2166 A.D. Project **_**SEEDS**_** Starship, Deep Space**

Cold. So very cold.

It was almost the only thing that he felt, as his bare feet slowly walked across the durasteel surface of the deck. He could feel his teeth clattering inside his mouth, as his face muscles spasmed repeatedly.

_How was your world, Rem?_

The boy nearly flinched, as the not so distant memory flitted through his thoughts. He could see it clearly, with his mind's eye: him, sitting on the lush, verdant grass, under an apple tree, basking in the warm glow of the artificial light generators and her, standing beside him, her features slightly obscured by the tree's shade.

_Earth? It . . . it was beautiful. Breathtaking. What you see here, in this artificial environment, is just a small fraction, a pale comparison of what has once been._

The boy passed by an observation port. Stopping from his trance-like walk, he looked out, through the transparent plating, into the cold, dark void of space. Small, pale stars could be seen, standing in contrast with the blackness around them, but they seemed frozen and unmoving as well. The sight only managed to chill the boy further, as he started shivering. Wrapping his hands around himself, he could almost start cursing the nightshirt's gauzy material, which offered him absolutely no protection. Gritting his teeth together, to keep them from clattering, he trudged onward.

_That is my dream, young one. To make an Eden._

The child stopped once more, as he reached a pair of massive steel doors, tightly sealed. Raising a small, pale hand, he flicked open the control console, hidden within the wall. Frowning slightly, he started tapping the keys in quick succession, observing idly that his fingers had taken on a bluish tinge.

_What's an 'Eden', Rem?_

"Pass-code correct. Entry approved. Welcome, SEED no. #26593."

The air-tight doors slowly started opening, with an ominous groan. A blast of refrigerated air blew in the boy's face and he started shivering even harder. Ignoring his body's protests, he moved onward, entering into the gigantic storage hull. He had been here many times, staring in awe at the massive construction. The gigantic, rounded hull spanned three-quarters of the ship's length, from the Engine Bay, to the Main Deck. The circular walls were all lined with thousands of translucent glass tubes, neatly ordered in dozens of rows. His blue-green eyes could discern, even through the semi-obscurity, the silhouettes of men, women and children, all encased in the tubes, preserved in cryogenic sleep. All through the hull, steel walkways connected the different rows of tubes.

In another time, the sight laid out in front of him would have left him speechless, standing still in the entrance. Now, however, he didn't even bother to look up, as his sore, half-frozen feet carried him further, into the steel womb.

_Eden means 'paradise'. It means a peaceful, tranquil world, with no wars, no crime, no suffering. A world in which man is free to be man and not devil. A world which we can create._

The boy kept walking forward, ignoring the fact that he could no longer feel his extremities. His eyes blazed in the darkened hull, as they stared straight ahead, intent upon their destination.

_It would be wonderful, Rem. Nothing but warm, peaceful days..._

Couching quietly, the boy approached one of the containment capsules. When he once again laid eyes upon the person encased within the steel shell, he let out a shaky breath, which immediately solidified to ice, in the sub-zero temperatures.

The woman's features were as beautiful as ever, her dark brown hair flowing like a burial shroud around her figure and her skin, pale and flawless, glinting in the gloom.

"Rem" the boy whispered, placing both of his hands on the glass. A spasm shot through him, as he felt the coldness of the surface, but he didn't remove his palms, even when he could almost feel his skin cracking. The woman was as silent and unmoving as ever, her eyelids closed shut and her bluish lips drawn together tightly.

For a second, the young one could swear that he had almost seen a tear trickle down her frozen cheek, but quickly dismissed it as a trick of the light.

_Are you sad, Rem? Please, don't cry! I'll always be there for you! Because I love you!_

His cracked lips twisted into a painful smile/grimace, blood droplets oozing from the cracks, as he remembered the scene in the artificial meadow. He was relieving all of it, feeling her hands in his hair, as she carefully styled it, her breath on the top of his head and seeing the half-surprised, half-amused look in her chocolate eyes, at his impromptu declaration.

"You didn't believe me, did you?" he whispered, his voice jagged and hoarse, as his breath condensed into ice upon the glass surface. "I don't blame you. A child body means a child mind as well, to most people."

His numb fingers started tracing a small pattern on the frosted surface.

"Still, I'm keeping my promises to you. I will stay by your side, no matter what." For a few seconds, he was completely silent, his eyes glinting dully. "The crew thinks that I have lost my mind completely, but my thoughts are clear. They're as sharp as ever, perhaps more so than before."

His forehead gently rested upon the glass and his body tried to tremble once more, at the contact, but he fiercely clamped down upon the instinctual response.

"I . . . I have a second promise that I have to make" he went on, his voice barely above a whisper. "I . . . I promise you . . . that, no matter what happens . . . no matter what the circumstances I are . . . I . . . I will never take life."

The darkened hull was completely silent, for a few moments, as sour tears flowed on the boy's cheeks, freezing on his chin.

"I will never kill again. No matter the cost."

**x x x**

**Stardate 129, P.G.F. (post Great Fall), 350 iles South-West of the City of Augusta, Planet Gunsmoke**

"Mr. Vash, how long 'till we stop for the night? I'm hungry."

Looking at the tall girl through the rear-view mirror, his eyes hidden behind his yellow-tinted sunglasses, the outlaw shrugged his shoulders, in carefully practiced nonchalance.

"Dunno. A few hours, perhaps"

From her backseat, Millie sighed, resting a hand against her grumbling stomach, as she watched the desert landscape speed by.

From her seat in the front, Meryl's gray eyes watched the surroundings as well, but her mind was preoccupied with other thoughts. The carefree act had fooled Millie, as always, but she could see through it. Of course, not as clearly as she would have wished, but, still, it was an improvement.

Her gaze left the desert and turned to the man standing besides her. His countenance was relaxed, but underneath it, lay a hotbed of accumulated tension. His gloved fingers held the steering wheel lightly, but she could still see the permanent indents, where his thumbs had nearly crushed the piece of equipment, when no one had been looking.

Meryl nearly winced, as she remembered the same black-gloved hand, striking her hard across the face, nearly cracking her lip. The impact had been so strong, that it had caused her to fly several meters backwards and then slam into the dusty ground, as the breath was torn from her lungs.

Her fingers rose to touch her cheek. In over three weeks, the dark bruise and the scratches on the inside of her mouth had healed completely. She traced one finger across her cheekbone, feeling it gather sweat and grime.

The Insurance Agent's eyes quickly turned to Vash once more, to see if the spiky-haired man was aware of her actions. If he was, he hid it remarkably well, as his blue-green eyes kept staring straight ahead, at the winding dust road.

Meryl's small hand fell limply into her lap, as she adjusted her position into the uncomfortable chair. The twin suns blazed hard from above, making the entire world seem like a scorching oven. Sweat drops flowed across her forehead, occasionally falling into her eyes, making her grimace, at the stinging sensation. Her tongue felt as if it had been coated in lead, her lungs burned with each intake of breath and her body screamed at her, for just a few drops of water.

For a few moments, the young woman contemplated the act of asking the gunman to stop at a watering hole (or even at a derelict well), but the prospect of raising her hopes, only to have them shattered, when they would stumble upon a long-dried water source, made her reconsider.

"Here. You look like you could use it."

Meryl nearly jumped backwards, as she saw a gloved hand, holding an old, leather canteen in front of her. Her dry lips opened, but her voice had chosen that very moment to desert her, as her sore throat contracted.

"Drink up, you'll get your voice back in no time" Vash went on, a knowing glint in his eye, as he gently placed the canteen into Meryl's lap.

The woman's sweaty hands carefully lifted the recipient and opened the lid. Throwing her head, back, she drank greedily, the water almost feeling like poison, as it burned its way down her dry throat.

"Although, I have enjoyed these rare moments of peace, without so much as a single nag from you."

Meryl's eyes narrowed slightly, as she kept drinking. Vash's countenance was almost the same, except for the small quirking of the corners of his lips.

"Enjoyed?" the young woman huffed, as she placed the now empty canteen on the floor. "I should certainly hope so, Broom-Head! You still have a lot of explaining to give, about the most recent 'incident'!"

"It wasn't my fault!" Vash answered, his voice changing from teasing to whining, in just a few seconds. "I didn't know that those bounty-hunters were stupid enough to try and blow up a well!"

"Because of you, idiot!" Meryl retorted, her eyes flashing, in annoyance and exasperation. "Out of all the places to hide, you had to choose a well!"

"I couldn't seek shelter in someone's home!" the outlaw explained, his shoulders slumping forward slightly. "Innocent people could have been hurt!"

"People _were_ hurt. Or did you think that the well just disintegrated into tiny bits? No, it rained with stones across half the town! Eleven people were hospitalized, with serious head injuries, twenty-seven others had bruises and concussions and the total property damage totals at about 600.000 double-dollars! Would you like me to read you the damage report in detail?"

Just as her fingers were reaching into her bag, for the papers, a small whisper stopped her.

"No. I already know what it says."

Meryl stopped in the middle of her angry tirade, to look questioningly, at the blonde gunman. His usual, neatly-styled hair was now almost a complete mess, ruffled by the wind, his mouth was drawn into a tight, grim line and his eyes (or, rather, what she could see, behind the sunglasses) were glinting with something akin to unshed tears.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want anyone to get hurt."

"You never want that. But, somehow, everything seems to go to hell, whenever you're involved!"

No sooner had the harsh words left Meryl's lips, that the small woman immediately clamped a hand over her mouth, kicking herself mentally, for the horrible choice of words. Even now, after three months, the panicked voices of the villagers were still ringing in her ears.

_Diablo. _

_The Devil in the Red Coat._

_That man has the eyes of the Devil! Stay away from him, I tell you!_

_I don't need your thanks, Stampede. I just want you out of my town, as fast as possible!_

_My husband... my husband was... murdered. He was murdered!_

_Calm down, woman! What are you saying?_

_My husband... he was decapitated! _

_Listen, Miss Stryfe. You keep saying that the man in red is innocent. I can't verify that. He was the last person to ever see the victim alive, with his head still on his shoulders. And, now I hear that he's that Humanoid Typhoon that everyone keeps talking about! No, I just can't release him. If he were to disappear into the night, who would be left to take the heat. You? I don't think so._

Meryl felt her damp hair falling over her eyes, but she didn't dare move to sweep it away. her hands were still in front of her lips, the fingers twisting painfully against one another. Silently, she gazed to her left, out of the corner of her eye, trying to discern what the man was feeling.

"I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said that" the woman whispered, amazed at the smooth way in which the words flowed. A few months ago, she couldn't even wish him good luck, without getting angry or flustered.

"You don't need to be" came the answer, spoken on a quiet, serious tone. "You're right on the money, as always."

Meryl wanted to contradict him, to say that he was wrong; to call him an air-headed lunatic even, but none of these words could leave her mouth. Wiping the perspiration off her forehead, the woman leaned further into the hard chair, ignoring the protests of her back muscles as she did so. As silence again descended upon the three traveling companions, her eyes started to wonder once more. All around, only open desert, scorched, rocky and flat, could be seen. Far ahead, she thought that she could see the gleaming white walls of a city, but the image was quickly shattered, proving to be just an illusion, created by the intense heat. Turning her eyes to the back seats, Meryl carefully studied Millie, who seemed to have dozed off, her head propped up on the left door and her hands folded underneath her, as a pillow. The senior Agent was completely sure that Millie had overheard most of her discussion with Vash, but in her typical unobtrusive manner, had chosen to keep out.

Turning her gray eyes back to the road ahead, Meryl couldn't stop her thoughts from wandering to the driver, once more. Whatever she did, no matter how hard she thought and puzzled, she still could not fully understand the walking enigma that was Vash the Stampede. In every new circumstance, he showed an almost completely new face, catching everyone off guard - even herself, although Meryl was loath to admit it. One moment he could be the grinning, donut-scarfing village idiot, with a multi-colored tie wrapped haphazardly across his head, only to turn, in the span of a few seconds, into a completely serious, focused gunman, who always fired his shots with grim accuracy, but never shot to kill.

And in other moments he could be like this: quiet, introverted, pulling himself away from everything and keeping his distance from everyone around him.

Hidden inside a steel shell.

Meryl sighed, licking her dry, cracked lips and feeling the metallic taste of blood. For the past three months, since she had met him first, on the outskirts of Felnarl town, everything had been a seemingly unending line of mysteries, unanswered questions and closed doors. The duality of the gunman's nature continued to intrigue her, to this very day. Who was he? What was he? Which side of his character was real and what masks that he wore were nothing but carefully built fakes?

Try as she might, the Insurance Agent could find few answers to these questions. Only in the past few weeks, had she started seeing more of her enigmatic traveling companion and assignment. As the pressure slowly rose, so did the cracks in his steel shell grow in number. It had been through those cracks, that she had first seen a brief glimpse of him, unguarded and unhidden.

Without her consent, images flooded her mind, reminding her of the stormy night, nearly three weeks ago. She could feel the soft cushion of the hotel chair, as she adjusted her position. The small room was obscured, as the only source of light was a small flash-rod, perched on the nightstand.

Across from her, with the small coffee table placed between them, stood Vash, resting lazily on the green velvet couch. A white towel was draped across his shoulders, his wet hair fell in his face and his skin still dripped water on the floor, from the recent shower. In his right hand, he held an opened beer can. Swinging his head back, he took another swing from the metal can, as several drops of water fell on the wooden table.

Meryl's hands rested in her lap, neatly folded over each other, her small shoulders squared. To any other person, the woman's posture would have spoken of determination and authority, but she knew very well that it was only a mask, under which she hid her uncertainty.

Apparently, the man standing across from her had seen her uncertainty as well.

_Drink that coffee, before it gets cold, Insurance girl. _

Meryl flinched slightly, at the unexpected sound of his voice. Her small hands shot out, grasping tightly onto the white, porcelain cup, bringing it close to her lips. Indeed, the coffee had cooled, losing almost all of its flavor. Meryl grimaced, at the sour taste, only to flinch once more, as a jolt of pain passed through her, from the wounded side of her face.

The action was not missed by the man, whose blue-green eyes seemed to blaze harder in the gloom.

_Let me see._

A scarred hand rose slowly, as two calloused fingers moved to touch her cheek. Purely out of instinct, Meryl leaned backwards, making the old chair creak ominously. The hand fell, as a myriad of emotions flashed across the gunman's features.

Pain.

Shame.

Anger.

Self-loathing.

The room was as silent as ever, as neither of the two dared to break the ice. Meryl's gaze was focused onto the cup of coffee, in which she saw her own startled features, reflected back at her, almost mockingly.

_I'm sorry. I . . . didn't mean to hurt you._

The apology was spoken on such a small tone, that Meryl could barely hear it. Raising her eyes, she looked at Vash, whose head was bowed, causing the blonde bangs to fall haphazardly across his face, hiding his expression from her.

_When so many innocents were killed by Monev, I . . . I completely lost control._

Meryl tried to smile, but the feeble twisting of her lips could not be considered such. The cold cup rested in her hands, as she tightened her grip on the handle, desperately searching for something appropriate to say.

_Don't apologize._

Her words had caused the outlaw's head to quickly snap up, as his wet hair splashed more droplets across the room. The befuddled expression on his face would have been considered hilarious, if the situation was of a less serious nature.

_It's human to make mistakes, after all._

Meryl didn't know where the inspiration for her words had come from, as her tired mind kept running in circles around itself. Across from her, Vash made a sound, halfway between a snort and a bitter laugh.

_Yeah . . . human . . . _

The Insurance Agent was surprised by the sudden undertone of bitterness lining the other's voice. Where had the sweet, mild-mannered, happy-go-lucky man disappeared? And who was the careworn, tired person sitting across from her, old and bitter, his eyes burning with hate towards his own self? The questions had arisen once more and she could not quiet them. As much as she hated the awkwardness of the present situation, she had to get at least some answers out of him, before he started behaving like a circus clown again.

_Vash . . . _

The gunman only nodded his head, to show her that he was paying attention.

_I don't understand. You never mean anyone harm, but all of these disasters seem to occur around you. Also, the citizens look at you with mistrust, even when you want to help them, treating you as a criminal. Doesn't . . . doesn't that bother you?_

Meryl idly realized that she had already started to babble, but she didn't care anymore. Dozens upon dozens of questions were floating to the surface and she couldn't stop herself from asking them.Vash opened his mouth, to answer, only to be cut off by Meryl, who had not finished her tirade:

_You once said that you would prefer a quiet, peaceful existence. What stops you from fulfilling it? Why don't you lay down your gun for good, if you don't wish to kill and hurt? Why don't you go to live quietly, as you wish?_

_I can't!_

The sharp, vehement answer, spoken on a harsh, determined tone made Meryl freeze in mid-sentence, as she warily regarded Vash. His strange eyes seemed to burn with even more intensity than before, reminding her, for one horrible moment, of his rage-filled expression, only a few days prior, as he had witnessed half the town being slaughtered.

_I can't stop now,_ he went on, with same determined tone. _Not until everything is over. I made several promises, a long time ago and I have to fulfill them, no matter the cost!_

Vash raised himself from the couch, as the old, rusty springs squeaked loudly. Swiftly, he crossed the small room, only to stop in front of the single window. The first moon shone from the dark sky above, coating everything with a pale, cold light.

_I still haven't come to terms with my past, Vash went on, his voice more subdued. Until I do so, I must continue my journey. If I go to live in peace now, I'd be lower than a pig._

Meryl was silent, her mind working hard to understand this sudden admission. Instead of answering her questions, Vash's words had only managed to raise even more queries.

_You should go and have some rest,_ Vash interrupted her frantic thoughts. _We are to leave tomorrow, before the dawn._

_So early?_ Meryl nearly jumped from her chair, in surprise. _Why?_

_I do not want to subject these people to my presence any longer. No after what happened._

The small woman nodded her head, in understanding. Placing the cup on the table, she slowly raised herself from the chair and walked towards the door, in complete silence. Before she left the room, she turned around one last time, to see the tall frame of Vash the Stampede, standing by the window, his hands clasped tightly at his back, as the pale moonlight accentuated the deep gashes, scars and cuts which marred his upper body.

And then the door closed behind her, with a dull thud.

Meryl's eyes snapped open, as a blast of hot wind blew directly in her face. Squinting her eyes, to protect them against the heat and sand, she shook her head, to wake up from the reverie.

"We should be at Jeonora Rock by tomorrow morning, at this rate."

Meryl nodded in Vash's direction, as she rested her head on her left hand.

"Good to hear."

As the rented all-terrain jeep sped across the desert, Meryl Stryfe stretched in her seat, as her mind still refused to rest, mulling over the memory. Indeed, that night, she had seen through his steel shell. As pain and shock had caused him to momentarily drop his protection shield, she had gotten a brief glimpse of the man that lay hidden behind the different masks, The sad, pained man, who was driven ahead solely by a promise that he had made in the past and who continued to love and treasure life, no matter the cost.

Her musings were cut short, as several muffled noises could be heard and the car started to gradually slow down.

"Vash, what are you doing?" the woman asked, annoyed that the gunman would choose such a moment for one of his foolish antics.

"I'm not doing anything" he defended himself, as his eyes scanned over the readings. "This thing is..."

His voice died down the very second that the car came to a sudden halt, raising a cloud of dust and sand.

"Uhuh, not good . . ."

"What?" Meryl frowned, as she saw the sheepish expression on the other's features. "Don't tell me..."

"We left the last town in such a hurry that . . . I forgot to fill the tank with gasoline" the outlaw quickly answered, practically tripping over his own words.

"You... forgot the fuel?" Meryl asked, on an eerily sweet voice, as a vein in her temple started pulsing.

"Yeah" Vash answered, his guilty grin getting even wider, as he idly scratched the back of his head. "Silly of me, isn't it?"

"You . . . you idiot!" she yelled, as her right fist impacted hard with the back of the gunman's head. "I'll show you s_illy,_ you incompetent fool!"

Vash tried to duck from the angry woman's fists, by moving backwards, but he only succeeded in accidentally opening the car door and unceremoniously tumbling in the dirt.

"Now, now Insurance girl, calm down" Vash said, raising his hands in surrender, as he put on his goofiest smile. "I'm sure someone will find us, sooner or later."

His words only seemed to anger Meryl further, as she proceeded to kick him, ignoring his repeated yelps of pain.

"Ow! Ow! Mercy! Mercy!"

Millie, for her part, had been roused out of her slumber by the shouting and general commotion. Cracking open one light blue eye, she smiled slightly at the sight laid out before her. Muttering something along the lines of _"oh, these two are at it again"_, she turned on the other side, stretching on the wide couch and drifting back to sleep.

Above the desert, the twin suns continued to blaze down, unconcerned by the affairs of mortals, turning the world into a fiery inferno.


	2. Distorted Images

Here is the second chapter. It is written mostly from Meryl's perspective, as I wanted to see if I could get inside her head. Enjoy!

**Chapter I – Distorted Images**

_Stay back!_

The harsh, unyielding voice echoed loud and clear in her ears, as she leaned against her partner.

_Don't come near me!_

She felt Millie's arms tighten painfully against her waist, as her own knees suddenly started to shake, as if they could not support her own bodyweight anymore.

_Sempai . . ._

Meryl heard Millie's shaky voice and felt the tall girl's tremors against her, as both their eyes followed the silhouette of a man clad in red, hunched over, slowly dragging his booted feet through the blood-spattered dirt.

_That is not Vash! That's not the man I know!_ Meryl heard herself whisper, her voice small and hoarse. _He's leaving! If we let him go now, he'll never come back!_

Next to her, Millie, sighed, her brown hair falling in her face and obscuring her features.

_I don't know, Sempai. The way he's acting . . . I don't know if there's a single person who could stop him now!_

Meryl choked slightly, as she felt unexpected tears well-up in the corners of her eyes. Why she was crying, she didn't know. Was it pain, sadness, fear, dread, or a combination of all of them?

_I can't let him leave, Millie!_

The words could barely escape her tightening throat, as she felt the other girl's grip falter.

_No, Sempai . . ._

_Let go of me, Millie! _

_Sempai!_

With a determination that seemed born out of sheer despair, Meryl tore herself from her junior partner. Her white boots shuffled through the bloody dirt, as she struggled to walk forward, ignoring the jolts of pain from her right ankle. Beads of sweat flowed on her brow, down her nose and lips, making her hair stick to her skin. Not bothering to wipe the grime away, the small woman walked onward intently, her eyes never leaving the hunched silhouette of the man in front of her.

A misplaced step made her lose her balance for a second. Her small hands desperately sought leverage, as they latched on tightly to the nearest object: the gunman's red trench coat. Meryl felt the other freeze in mid-step, as she struggled to regain her footing.

_Let go._

The words were spoken on a cold, seemingly lifeless tone, but underneath it, she could still hear the razor-sharp edge of anger.

_Vash, please, listen to me!_ she pleaded, as one of her hands moved to grasp the other's gloved forearm. _What is happening to . . ._

However, the feeble words instantly died in her throat, as the tall outlaw slowly turned around to face her. The color in Meryl's cheeks drained immediately, as she met the other's furious gaze. Her knees shook even more and she had to use all of her remaining willpower not to collapse under the withering, cobalt stare.

_Let go!_

The reasonable side of Meryl cried out at her, screamed for her to back away from the blonde-haired man, telling her that he was more than a potential threat. However, logic seemed to fail her completely, as her instinctual side maintained control and she did not move away.

_Now, listen here, you disaster-prone menace! I . . ._

Only at the last possible second, did she realize what a horrible mistake her words had been, as the cold, blue fire in Vash's eyes flared brighter, for a second. The small woman did not even have time to react, as a black-gloved hand impacted hard with the right side of her face. A surprised/pained scream tore itself from her throat, as she felt herself flung backwards, through the air, by the force of the blow. Her back slammed into the blood-soaked ground, sending a shockwave of sharp pain through her entire body. For a few seconds, she lay still, in a daze, as the world seemed to fall apart around her.

_Sempai!_

Millie's shocked scream suddenly broke through the haze of pain that had surrounded her mind. Meryl clenched her teeth tightly, as the dull throbbing in the small of her back intensified and her ears kept ringing sharply. Biting back several whimpers, she struggled to lift her head from the ground.

For a few seconds, the entire town seemed to spin madly around her, before the distorted image slowly began to stabilize. The young woman could see Millie's pale, shell-shocked face and panicked eyes. However, her gaze moved onto the tall man, who seemed frozen in place, his arms hanging limply by his sides. Vash's features seemed to shift constantly, as a plethora of indescribable emotions flashed over them. The hellish fire in his eyes had seemed to abate, replaced by a deep azure, resembling the depths of a tropical sea, in the mad surges of a storm.

Meryl's body instantly tensed, as she felt Millie's strong, almost masculine arms, surrounding her and helping her to get up. The fear on the tall girl's features had somewhat dissipated, but her large, blue eyes were still full of concern.

_Sempai, are you alright?_

Meryl merely nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The pain had not lessened, but, with Millie's help, she slowly started to get to her feet, ignoring the ache and gradual swelling of her face, as well as the horrible, metallic taste of blood on her tongue.

_Meryl? Meryl, can you hear me, girl?_

The young woman's eyes snapped open, as the world around her slowly started to shift and change focus and substance. Soon enough, the image of the dark, half-devastated town was gone from her sight, only to be transformed into a small, white-walled room. The burning pain in her ribs and face had disappeared as well, replaced by a secure feeling, of warmth and familiarity.

_Are you awake, daughter?_

Meryl's gray eyes opened even further, as she recognized the short, red-haired, smartly dressed woman, who stood next to her bedside.

_Mom . . . _

The elder woman's features twisted into what could only be described as an expression of annoyance.

_Daughter, how many times do I have to tell you that you must not address me like that? It is not proper!_

_I'm sorry, Ma'am,_ she whispered in response, the distant lessons of her childhood unconsciously rising to the surface of her mind once more. _Where am I?_

_Home, where else?_ Cynthia Stryfe frowned, as she straightened a non-existent crease in her blue dress. _After traveling all across this forsaken dust-ball, with who knows what kind of scum, it is high-time you decided to visit your lonely Mother._

The accusing tone was not lost on Meryl, but the Insurance Girl was much too absorbed in her own thoughts to hear her clearly anymore. What was going on here? How had she traveled from the mud-covered streets of Promontory Town, all the way to her Mother's house, on the outskirts of December City? And, how was it possible that she was having a conversation with her Mother, when Cynthia Stryfe had passed away nearly three years ago, due an unexpected aneurism?

_Are you listening to me, daughter?_

Meryl's head quickly jerked up and the throbbing in her temples returned, with even more intensity than before.

Cynthia Stryfe's frown deepened, as one of her well-groomed, manicured hands tightened painfully around Meryl's wrist.

_What do you intend to do with your life, Meryl?_ she asked, the words coming out through almost clenched teeth. _Do you intend to waste your days away from home, in God-knows-what kind of backwater slum, surrounded by gunfighters and other such fiends? Do you intend to live in danger, with the fear that someday, a stray bullet will end your life?_

Meryl desperately wanted to say something, to contradict her mother's harsh words, but her overworked mind seemed to have lost all logic and reason, as it kept spinning in maddening circles around itself.

_Your father and I gave you everything that you would need, for a decent life,_ her mother went on, ignoring the uneasiness in her daughter's eyes, _and this is how you repay us? Running around the desert, with an outlaw, a womanizer, a murderous beast!_

The Insurance girl's back went rigid, at her mother's stinging accusations. Again, she found herself hopelessly conflicted, as a part of her wanted to scream, to slap Cynthia, to tell her that she was wrong, while another side could not help but agree with some of the other's words.

_He's nothing like you describe him, Mother._

That simple string of words, spoken on a quiet tone seemed to have the desired effect, as the older woman abruptly stopped her raging tirade, as her dark eyes narrowed.

_That may be so, Daughter, but, as the old Earth saying goes, you should never trust a wolf in a sheep's skin!_

Meryl's breath faltered, at the mix of anger and sadness that glinted in her mother's eyes. Silently, she watched as Cynthia placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

_Just promise me, Daughter . . . that you will always think before you act. That you will never allow your emotions to guide your actions. _

_That, when the time comes, you will know how to make the right choice._

The small woman opened her dry mouth, to give an answer, but Cynthia's hand abruptly fell from her shoulder, as the room started blurring and shifting as well, in a mosaic of grey matter.

A wordless plea left her throat, as she extended her hands forward, but the white room was already gone, dissolved in the mass of dark, swirling smoke. Meryl could, at first, smell the unmistakable scent of sweat mixed with dust and blood. Then, her eyesight returned, as the curtain of liquid smoke parted, giving her a clear view of the world.

She was once again in the small town of Promontory, in the mud-clogged streets, among the blood-spattered bodies, haphazardly strewn around by the force of the explosions and surrounded by crumbling, nearly shattered buildings. The incessant ringing in her ears stopped as well and she could clearly hear the whispers of others around her, as fearful words were exchanged on low, frightened tones.

Meryl's gray eyes ignored the mass of townspeople gathered next to her, as she focused her sight on the two figures that were locked in a pained standstill, several meters ahead of her.

Gasping and wheezing desperately, the mercenary known as Monev the Gale laid on his back, strewn in the dark mud, completely helpless, as the barrel of a gun was pressed painfully against his right eye. Above him, towered the red-clad form of Vash the Stampede, whose normally placid features were now twisted into a feral snarl. Meryl felt her hands grasping each other tightly, as her heartbeat accelerated. Never before had she seen such a wild, uncontrolled expression on Vash's face. The gunman's teeth were clenched together, loudly scraping against each other, his features were drawn taut and his eyes burned with almost the same intensity as the moment when he had hit her. The woman unconsciously touched her bruised, swollen cheek and flinched at the jolt of pain.

For a few moments, all was still. No one dared to move or even breathe, as they all awaited the inevitable outcome to occur. The two men were frozen in the same position and, had it not been for Monev's pained, fearful sobs, one could have mistaken them for a pair of life-like statues, immortalized in eternal combat.

Finally, when the first warm rays of the sun broke through the cold, dark gloom of night, something changed. Meryl's entire body became rigid, as she saw that Vash had started to move. The gunman's shoulders were shaking slightly, as he slowly raised his gun arm, taking it away from Monev's face. The townspeople watched on, fear mixing with awe and morbid curiosity on their sun-burnt faces.

_This is all that I can do . . ._

The words were spoken on such a low whisper, that they could barely be heard. Vash wrapped both of his arms around himself, as if to form a protective shield. His face rested against the cold metal of the machine gun, as an infinite number of emotions crossed his face, in the span of a few seconds. It was clear that he was silently weeping, judging by the tears that had started to fall freely on his cheeks and the small trickle of blood that flowed from his bottom lip, where he had bit into it.

_Rem, please, help me . . ._

Meryl felt as if an icy hand had curled against her ribcage, cutting off her breath. All that she could do was stare at the lonely, tormented man in front of her, who was holding himself and weeping in much the same manner that a frightened, injured child would.

_If . . . if I shot him now . . . I would break my promise and then, you would really be gone from my side._

Around her, the men and women had already started to move, whispering animatedly amongst themselves, but Meryl could barely hear them. Alongside her, Millie was silent as well, her large, innocent, blue eyes filled with sadness and a certain degree of understanding.

No sooner had the commotion started, that it suddenly ground to a halt once more, as Vash's strained voice rose above the din.

_Where can I find your boss?_

Monev swallowed thickly, realizing that the question had been posed to him alone. Shivering slightly, he answered, telling only the truth. Somehow, he was well aware that those penetrating eyes would know instantly if he tried to tell a lie.

_I don't know. . . I was bought. The man whom I thought to be my Father turned out to be nothing but a damned agent. That's all I know, I swear!_

Satisfied with the honest answer, Vash swiftly turned his back on Monev, the heels of his boots raising a small dust cloud on the ground, as he walked away, on an almost leisurely pace.

_You're . . . you're far too trusting, you know that?_ Monev grunted, as he struggled to raise himself into a sitting position. _I could shoot you in the back right now, if I wanted to._

Those worlds made Vash stop, for a second. Not bothering to turn around, the gunslinger raised his gun arm once more.

_Perhaps you could. But my finger has stayed on the trigger the entire time._

Monev could only whimper, in response to the thinly-veiled threat, as Vash lowered the weapon once more. His footsteps sounded unnaturally loud, in the quiet street, as he slowly walked away from the crumbled mercenary.

_Vash . . ._

Hearing his name, the gunman turned and locked his gaze with Meryl's. For a few milliseconds, they stood completely still, none of them daring to move or speak. Vash's stare moved from the Insurance girl's eyes, to her swollen face and he winced, in shame and self-recrimination.

For a fleeting moment, Meryl contemplated the idea of reaching out to him, but the though was silently shattered, as, for the third consecutive time, the images in front of her eyes started to dissipate and distort.

**x x x**

Meryl coughed slightly, as she continued to run at a quick pace, climbing up the carved stone steps, to reach the top of Jeonora Rock. Her breath came in short gasps and the muscles in her legs protested at the sudden abuse, but she ignored them, increasing her speed.

"Sempai, slow down!" Millie shouted from behind, as she struggled to keep up with her superior.

The shorter woman ignored Millie's pleas, as her mind silently replayed last night's dream/nightmare. The fact that she had been forced to relieve the grueling experience of Promontory was no surprise – she had dreamt of it constantly over the last three weeks – but the fact that she had also seen her departed mother puzzled her to no end. She and her mother had, by no means, been close, as Cynthia had wasted no occasion on berating her daughter, for the inappropriate choices that she had made in her life. Apparently, this dream had not been any different, Meryl though, with dry amusement.

Then, her conscience seemed to tease her, if it hadn't been any different, why was she thinking so much about it?

Try as she might, Meryl could not find a clear answer to that question. Was it because of her mother's grim warnings, that she would be faced with a dangerous choice, in the near future? The Insurance girl would have laughed out loud at this, had she not been so intent upon running. Nearly five months in Vash the Stampede's company had gotten her quite used to dangerous choices.

Their unexpected arrival into the small settlement of Jeonora Rock was proof enough of that. After the outlaw forgot to fill the jeep's fuel tank with gasoline (_like the broom-headed idiot that he is,_ Meryl silently added), he had been forced by the two Insurance girls to find a way that would get them to their destination. In the end, Vash had ended up dismantling the entire car, except the metal frames and the front seats, in which the girls promptly seated themselves. Faced with the choice of either carrying them (and the seats) on his shoulders, or enduring Meryl's wrath once more, the blonde gunman had chosen the first option and the road to Jeonora had been spent in relative peace and quiet – except for Vash's occasional question, spoken on a whiny tone: "Are we there yet?"

At their arrival, they had been faced with a nearly deserted town and the reason had quickly become apparent, as the three entered the local saloon, only to come across a total of eight male bodies, coated in coagulated blood. Most of them had died from gunshots, but one had (in what Meryl considered to an unthinkable act) ripped his still beating heart out of his own chest.

The sight of the slaughter had deeply unsettled all three of them, but, as always, Vash was the most deeply affected. With a grim, determined expression on his features, he had started to run around town, searching for the culprit. The two women, for their part, listened to his warning and kept out of the whole affair, waiting for him on one of the benches in the central plaza.

However, as the twin suns had started to sink towards the horizon, coating the ghost-town with an unsettling, crimson hue, the shorter woman's patience reached its end and, not caring about the possible consequences, she had roused her junior partner and, together, they had started to search for their elusive assignment. Finally, their footsteps had reached the massive stone pillar of Jeonora Rock, which loomed over the town, an unflinching, silent guardian.

"Hurry up, Millie!"

Meryl's temples were starting to throb once more, but she struggled to ignore the pain. Mentally cursing Vash the Stampede, for his constant playing-the-hero attitude, she drew a mouthful of air into her lungs and quickly let it out, as several gunshots could be heard, from the rocky outcrop's top.

The Insurance girl stopped abruptly, as her feet stepped over the last stair and she could finally see the top of Jeonora Rock. On the flat, stone surface, several images caught her eye: a large, dark mound rested on one side, casting a dark shadow over the two combatants, who were silently facing each other – Vash, garbed in his unmistakable red coat and a tall woman, whose violet hair flapped gently in the breeze. Meryl observed that she kept on of her hands over her right eye, from which a trickle of dark blood oozed.

"But . . . I do not understand" she croaked, on a rusty voice. "How did you see through my illusion? How did you see through the Demon Eye's mirage?"

As a response, Vash silently raised his left hand. One of his fingers had been broken and twisted, when he had managed to catch it in a windowsill, several hours prior.

"Do you mean . . . do you mean to say that you shattered my illusion by focusing all of your five senses . . . on _pain?_ No! It's not possible! No human could do such a thing!"

The gunslinger merely smiled, in a teasing manner, as if quietly asking: _Who says that I'm human?_

At this, the woman hung her head, with a defeated sigh.

"Then, it is over for me. Master Legato will not let me live, now that I have failed him."

For a second, all was still, before the tall woman broke into a sprint. In the blink of an eye, she had crossed the entire plateau and had thrown herself from the edge, into the chasm below. Vash screamed in shock, as he tried to catch her, but he was too late, as his gloved fingers curled themselves around air. From below, the muffled thud of a body impacting against the hard soil could be heard.

And all was silent once more.

Cautiously, Meryl slowly walked across the rocky surface, approaching the immobile silhouette of the crimson-clad man.

"What happened here?" she asked, on a barely –audible whisper.

"Another henchman on my trail" he answered, on the same, quiet tone.

"An acquaintance of Monev?"

Vash flinched at the memory of the Promontory disaster, but his voice remained firm.

"Part of the same team of assassins, yes."

Meryl nodded shortly, her face twisting in a grimace of disgust, as she felt the sickly-sweet smell of decaying flesh seep into her nostrils. Turning around, her small fists clenched tightly, as she realized that the large mound was made up of dozens of mangled, dismembered bodies.

"Did . . . did she do this?" Meryl asked, as her stomach jerked violently, several times.

"Yes" the outlaw answered, an expression of helpless pain flashing on his features, for a brief second. "I suggest you both contact the federal government. These people deserve a decent burial."

"What do you mean _we?"_ Meryl snapped, pinching her nose, in order to block out the horrendous stench of death. "What are _you_ going to do?"

"Leave" came the simple reply.

For a moment, Meryl could not say anything, as she blinked repeatedly. Next to her, she heard Millie's labored breathing, as the tall girl struggled to catch her breath, after the infernal climb.

"Leave?" she choked out, her gray eyes narrowing dangerously. "What do you mean _leave,_ you spiky-haired moron? Now, when this town needs all the help that it can get?"

"Yes."

Wordlessly, the Insurance girl slapped him hard across the face, as she had done countless times in the past, when he had started getting on her frayed nerves.

"You're a coward" she hissed between barely parted lips. "You're running away from your responsibilities!"

Vash stood silent, his azure eyes staring at a point above Meryl's shoulder, as a red palm-print slowly appeared on his cheek.

"I guess we're even now" he smiled slightly, a pained tightening of the lips, as he ran one gloved finger across his still-stinging cheek.

"Don't you dare try to joke your way out of this!"

"I'm not trying to" the gunslinger answered, his countenance becoming serious once more. "I have a very legitimate reason for leaving."

"And just what would _that_ be?" Meryl asked, ready to hit him once more, if she did not find his answer satisfactory.

"I do not want to see more people hurt, because of me" he whispered, pointing to the mound of rotting, decomposing flesh.

"Does that mean . . . that you're leaving without us, Mr. Vash?" Millie questioned, on a sad, quiet voice.

"I'm afraid so."

For a moment, Meryl had thought that her blood-pressure could not get any higher. She had been sorely mistaken.

"Vash" she interjected harshly, "you're _not_ ditching us here! Honestly, what is going on in that empty head of yours? We're supposed to watch you, remember? It's part of our job!"

"Then it is your job or your _life!"_ he countered, his voice as determined as Meryl's. "Choose which you value more!"

In that instant, the small woman felt her mouth go dry, as her mother's almost taunting words suddenly came to her. There would come a time when she would have to make a choice.

"Listen, Meryl" Vash went on, his tone softening. "And you too, Millie. I cannot let you accompany me anymore, due to the dangers that I will have to face, in the near future. The assassins that are following me are no ordinary mercenaries and . . . there is another." Here, his voice faltered and his eyes flashed. "There is another enemy, whose powers are beyond your comprehension. He could crush you with a mere gesture, if he so wished!"

The two women were now completely silent, as they stared at him, with fearful expressions on their faces.

"Please, just leave this place. Go back to your lives. Get out of this living hell, while you still can! Please, Insurance girls!"

And with that, he suddenly turned around and started to descend the winding stairs, toward the dark, quiet town below, without so much as a glance behind.

"Sempai, are we just going to let him go?"

A few hours ago, Meryl would have chased after the outlaw, would have pummeled him with her fists, trying to knock some sense into his head. Now, however, she felt completely drained, as if something had sucked all the energy and will out of her body. Still, one thing was certain: this time, the small woman could not argue or contradict him, because of the beseeching way he had looked at her, as if wanting to reach through to her very soul.

"And he said my name out loud" she whispered to the surrounding darkness.

It was true. For the first time, they had not been "insurance girls", "ladies" or simply "girls" to him; they had been Meryl and Millie – _she_ had been Meryl to him, not just a generic, governmental paper-pusher.

"I'm sorry, Sempai" Millie huffed gently, as she laid her large hands on Meryl's shoulders, seeking her support.

"Me too, Millie" she answered, her gaze fixed in the distance, as if trying to catch a small glimpse of the departing man. "Me too."

**x x x**

The soft sand crunched under his boots, as he slowly walked due south, among the shadows of night. The pack felt heavy against his shoulder and a pebble had managed to lodge itself in his boot, between his toes, causing him to feel a jolt of pain at each step he took. However, he would not remove the stone. Pain was a necessary catalyst. It helped him keep his mind off things that he did not wish to remember.

"Damn!" he hissed, when the pack nearly slipped from his grasp. Catching it before it hit the ground, he tossed it across his back once more. However, the momentary interruption in rhythm had caused unbidden thoughts and images to flash across his mind. The ruins of July. Revenant Vasquez's body, slumped over his desk, covered in his own blood. Knives' sadistic smile. Legato's cold, merciless eyes. Monev's slaughter, at Promontory town. The one-eyed woman's body, splattered on the rocks, where she had hit the ground, in her suicidal jump. The mound of twisted, mangled bodies.

And the more he remembered, the angrier he became. His heartbeat was erratic in his chest and he felt the cold sensation of fury flowing through his veins, deadly and searing like vitriol.

"Legato!" Vash roared, his furious voice rising in the dark night. "This is it, you murderer! You've toyed with me long enough! From now on, I will be the hunter and you will be my prey! I will search for you, even if it means walking across this whole damned planet! Prepare yourself!"

His anger spent, in one white-hot, blazing moment, the gunman took a few moments to catch his breath. His heart still hammered wildly in his chest and a bitter taste coated his tongue. As much as he wanted to forget, the frozen, immobile faces of the dead followed him, wherever he went, their eyes staring at him, as if accusing him of their untimely, painful demise. And as much as he wanted to lay all the blame on Knives and Legato, he knew that he could not so. For out of the mass of dead faces, one in particular stood out to him, her eyes opened wide, in shocked silence, her hair tangled and messy, flowing on the cold, steel floor, her lips coughing a steady stream of blood.

Even after a century and a half of running, of screaming, of laughing, of hurting, of bleeding, of tearing his own memory to bits, in a last, desperate effort to forget, he could not erase that moment from his consciousness. It would linger on, with him, a grim reminder of what he truly was. A reminder that he had to keep from getting close to anyone, knowing full-well what the consequences would be.

And so, he moved on, leaving the two women behind. However, his true intention was not to shield them from Knives, but to protect them from himself.

"I'm sorry, girls" he murmured softly, into the darkness. "I have no other choice."

And he set forth once more, the vast expanse of desert open ahead of him, the sand glimmering in the pale moonlight, like a distorted image, seen through a broken mirror.


End file.
